I'm Sick of You (Please Don't Leave)
by CrystalWolfShining
Summary: Frank is clearly sick. He also refuses to stay home and get well. Carl takes things into his own hands.


This was a request, from over a year ago. I have no excuse, except I just kept forgetting about it. I've had the thing written up for months, I just haven't uploaded it.

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It's been two days. Normally, Carl would have let Frank get over whatever bug he had caught on his own, but he had only seems to get worse.

Carl's eyes flicked up from his typewriter as Frank cleared his throat. A few minutes later, the boy coughed into his arm. "You okay, Frank?" Frank gave him one of his polite smiles. "My throat's just a little dry." Carl leveled an unimpressed look at him. "You're sick." Frank looked down at the papers he was working through. "I'm fine." Carl rolled his eyes. "You're sick, you should take the day off."

Frank didn't reply, and Carl thought that was the end of it. Until the kid showed up the next day, with flushed cheeks and a cough that was persistent and apparent. An impressive feat, considering the boy lived with him and Carl distinctly remembered leaving him at home with a cup of water, two Aspirin pills, and a mug of warm soup. Carl took one look at him and stood up. This, unfortunately, caught Frank's eye, and he made a quick U-turn.

Somehow, that was the closest he had managed to get to the con all day. They share desk space. It shouldn't be possible for him to disappear so quickly, much less completely avoid him. He even thought that he had seen Frank a couple times, but he disappeared too quickly to be sure. It was infuriating. Until now, when he had definitely found the boy.

Carl cringed before rapping on the stall door. "Frank I know you're in here, open the door." There was a long moment of silence before Carl once again cringed at the sound of someone- Frank- being sick. Awkwardly listening to the sound of retching, Carl's eyes flicked back up when the door opened. Frank leaned heavily on the stall, face flushed and eyes slightly glassy.

With a gentle hand, Carl grabbed him around the bicep. "Come on, I'll take you home." To his credit, Frank managed to only look a little miserable as he was lead out, shaking off Carl's hand to walk out on his own.

After stopping by their desk to pick up their things, Carl told the secretary that neither he nor Frank would be in for the rest of the day or tomorrow. Frank squinted in the sunlight outside, despite his coat shivering in the brisk spring chill. He wordlessly walked to Carl's car, not putting up a fuss anymore. Starting the car, Carl looked over. Frank was slouched uncharacteristically, looking out the window. Within minutes, he had slipped into a doze.

Frank jolted into wakefulness as the car stopped. He blinked a few times, slightly confused until he got his bearings. Carl opened the door, reaching in behind the seat to get their briefcases while Frank shifted himself to stand. Frank followed behind Carl as he opened the door and turned on the lights. He motioned for Frank to sit on the couch before walking off, leaving him in the den.

Frank found himself looking at the house that he and Carl inhabited. There were some noticeable spaces on the walls where picture frames used to be. The furniture and few knickknacks visible attempted to lend the sparse area a lighter touch, obviously not Carl's.

Frank looked up as Carl came back, arms laden with blankets. The other man piled a few on top of him, and Carl shucked his shoes to pull his feet up. "If you hadn't come in, you could have kept the heat on." Carl shot a reproachful look at Frank as he spoke. He squirmed, his cheeks flushed for a reason other than fever. Carl left again, fetching a thermometer. "Open up, Frank." Too tired to protest, Frank opened his mouth, feeling patronized as Carl put the thermometer in. Frank blinked tiredly at Carl as he once again left. It wasn't long before Carl came back to see Frank laying against the pillow on the end of the couch, thermometer almost falling out of his mouth as he softly snored. Carl took the precariously positioned thermometer before tucking the blankets closer around the other man.

Frank blinked his eyes open as he was shaken. Carl was crouched in front of him, sans coat and shoes. "Do you want soup? Or do you want to change into comfortable clothes first? Frank took a moment to think. "Clothes," he croaked, wincing. Standing shakily, he took the bundle from Carl and changed in the bathroom. A few minutes later, he returned in pajamas that were a bit too large for him, just as he liked it.

Carl had brought out the TV trays and set one up next to the couch, a steaming bowl atop it. Frank walked over and sat on the couch, arranging the blankets. Carl carefully picked up the tray and shifted it in front of Frank, soup and all. Frank looked at the soup and, despite his sour stomach, it looked good. There were beans and chunks of chicken and what looked like cooked celery and carrots. It smelled good, too. "Careful, it's hot." Frank looked up as Carl sat down on the couch, scooting the tray to him, trying not to catch it on the carpet. Frank carefully started in on his soup, savoring it, enjoying the taste as much as he could. They ate in silence, save for the clinking of silverware and the occasional cough.

"Frank." Frank didn't look at Carl, as he had not looked at him for the duration of their meal. "Frank, why didn't you stay home?" There was silence and Carl was starting to think Frank was ignoring him. "In France, they locked me up like an animal. Worse," Frank's voice was croaky, "The only time someone came was when they brought me food. I was alone," Frank's voice cracked, "And when I sleep, I'm alone. On the weekends, when you're gone, I can go out and do things, be around people. I can handle it. But staying here, not doing anything, while you go to work…"

Carl didn't say anything. He just nodded, hardly noticed since neither of them were looking at each other. Then he took their empty bowls, leaving Frank to curl up and pull the blankets up around him. He had almost drifted off again when he felt a touch at his elbow. Carl held out a couple of pills and a glass. "For your fever." Slightly annoyed at having to move, Frank took the pills before washing them down with water.

Carl put the glass on the end table next to the couch. Frank startled as Carl sat down next to him, much closer than before, and put on his reading glasses. He flipped open a book, curling his feet up under him. Frank laid back down to sleep, his feet lightly touching Carl's thigh.

When he next opened his eyes, Carl was still there under a blanket of his own, asleep against the other pillow.


End file.
